by Amy Murray
Mack was creeping down the hall with his gun held low, the barrel pointed to the ground. He pressed his finger to his lips and whispered, “Stay here.”
“What’s happening?” I asked, but his only reply was a sharp shake of his head.
He moved silently toward the living room and turned the corner with his gun raised in front of him.
“Colin,” a hearty voice called. “What a pleasure.”
My heart thudded, recognizing the sound, and I crouched until my back was pressed against the vanity. Roselli was here.
“Put the gun down. You have no play here,” Roselli said.
“You know I can’t do that.”
There were several moments of silence before a swift sound sliced the air. Someone grunted through clenched teeth, and my heart dropped. James. My stomach clenched and wave of nausea had my fingers gripping my lips.
“Nino,” Mack barked. “Don’t do this. They didn’t find the necklace. Killing him won’t help you.”
“Next time, I shoot him in the head. Now, put your gun down.” There were a handful of seconds where I heard nothing. “Not enough of an incentive, huh? How about you put your gun down or my friend here kills your girl.”
I didn’t have time to run, much less hide, before a man appeared at the mouth of the hall. His nose was taped with a bandage, but his face was one I’d never forget. This was the man who’d thrown me in the back of his van not twenty-four hours ago.
“You gonna come easy this time?” he asked, waving a gun at my middle.
When I didn’t respond, his hand shot out with lightning speed and grabbed me by the arm. In three steps, I was hauled into the living room. Roselli was seated on the sofa with his back to me, and Mack stood in front of him, his gun trained on Nino.
His jaw clenched. “You’re outnumbered here, McCormack. Set it down so no one else gets hurt.”
The man holding me pressed his gun to my temple, and Mack bent, placing his gun on the coffee table in front of him. When he straightened, the man holding me turned his gun from my head to aim at Mack’s.
I scanned the room. “Where is he? Where’s James?” I asked when Roselli turned toward me. I wrenched my arm, trying to free myself from the henchman’s grip, but it only tightened.
“Let her go,” Roselli said.
When he released my arm, I ran around the sofa. “No.” My heart dropped at the sight of James’s boots. I could just see the soles peering from behind the wall, and from the way his feet were angled, I knew he was lying on his back. Panic seized my heart as I rounded the corner, and something like a scream gurgled in my throat.
In front of me was everything I never wanted to see. Not again. James grunted, and relief pulsed through me. He kicked himself back toward the wall only using his left leg. His right was dragging across the kitchen floor and smearing the blood puddled there.
I slid to his side and stared at the hole in the thigh of his jeans, the one that was soaked black with blood. “Oh God,” I said. I looked around pulled a stack of dishtowels from a drawer.
James gnashed his teeth and swore when I pressed the thick cloth to his leg. When the blood soaked through, I grabbed another, and then another, hoping to staunch the flow.
“Abigail,” Roselli called from the living room. “Don’t worry about James. There are bigger things we need to discuss.”
I ignored him and focused my narrowed attention on stopping the bleeding. My hands pressed against the towels, but no matter how much pressure I applied, blood continued to soak through. I saw it crawl from under my hands to the outer edges of the towel and my drift flashed in front of me. Only instead of soaking the towels, James’s blood was spilling between my fingers.
“No, no,” I said more to myself than anyone else. I needed help. I needed to call someone, to find someone. My head swung in every direction, looking for a phone. It wasn’t until I felt pressure on my own hand that my gaze went to James.
His hand, rippled with scars, was covered in blood. “You need to go,” he mouthed. “You need to get out of here.” He nodded his head toward the door that led through the laundry room and out to the backyard.
An unbidden image of James’s dead body lying alone in a grimy alleyway surged forward. “I’m not leaving you here.”
James’s expression contorted to one of anger. “Abby, go,” he said, but was cut off by Roselli, his voice loud enough to be heard from the living room.
“No need to run, dear, but if you do, know that things won’t end so well for you or your friends.”
I stared at James, at his beloved face twisted between pain and fury. I grabbed his hand and placed it over the gunshot wound.
“Please,” he said.
I looked back toward the living area and then again at James. “I can’t…I won’t.”
“Why not?” he asked through gritted teeth.
“Because I’ve done that before, and I know how that feels.”
“Don’t do this because of something that happened in the past. Do this for me. The me that’s here, now.”
I pinched my lips and stood, but instead of heading toward the back door, I turned toward Roselli. Nino’s cheeks lifted with a grin, and as he stood, he held his arms wide from his chest like he was welcoming me into an embrace. I took a hesitant step forward, knowing this could be the beginning of my end.
Chapter Twenty-One
Roselli dropped his arms, but his smile remained. “You made the right decision. Running would have made this worse.”
“You didn’t have to hurt him,” I said to Roselli, refusing to look back at James. “I’d have done anything you asked.”
He shrugged and aimed his gun at me. The man with the bandaged nose moved to Roselli’s side, but kept his gun trained steadily on Mack.
“Let them go, Nino. The diamond’s gone; it wasn’t here. By hurting them, you’ll only make things worse for yourself. You know that.”
With every word Mack spoke, Roselli’s body hardened. His shoulders lifted with tension, and his face creased with anger.
“You know, more than anyone else, that this is about much more than me or than the diamond.”
Mack’s temple pulsed, and Roselli waved the barrel of his gun between me and Mack. His smile was a cold thing, and a shiver ran up my spine. “Let’s get down to business. If the necklace isn’t here”—he paused and looked around—“where, may I ask, is it?”
“I don’t know,” Mack said. “Lost? It’s been a century since anyone has seen it. It could be anywhere.”
“Now, we know that isn’t true. Our girl here saw it in her drift. I’m not sure how all of this works, but I do know one thing. She’s the key to finding it.”
Mack’s jaw clenched, and when he made a move toward Roselli, the gunman clicked his tongue and waved him back. “How did you find out Abigail could drift?” Mack asked. “Who told you?”
Roselli’s lips curled in a gruesome smile. “Elaina.” He let the word sink in, and I watched as Mack’s lips parted in surprise. “She told me all about your drift—about what you could do.”
A million thoughts ran across his face. “She wouldn’t. She swore.”
Roselli’s face hardened. “She was dying. People say and do the strangest things—my daughter included.”
“Elaina was your daughter’s name?” I swung toward Mack, my eyes wide. “And you knew her?”
“You haven’t told her?” Roselli asked, gesturing to me with his gun. “Wow. Agent McCormack, I’m surprised. Truly.”
The muscle in Mack’s temple popped in and out, and my blood ran cold.
“You see, our mutual friend here was engaged to my daughter, Elaina. Of course, this was a while ago now, and obviously before he joined the bureau.” He stepped toward us, and his cold eyes ran up Mack’s face. “I didn’t have a son. My wife died just after our daughter was born, and I never had the chance. When I met Colin, here, I thought that this was my chance. I loved him like my own, and I’d like to think that he t
hought of me as a father. Lord knows, he needed one.”
Mack’s face was rigid as stone, and his eyes were glittering emeralds.
“The legend of the lost Florentine diamond had been in my family for years. It was stolen in 1922 from my grandfather, and he spent the remainder of his life looking for it—he died for it. My Elaina, she found my grandfather’s papers, his notes about where the necklace might have gone, and she was intrigued.”
He took several casual steps toward me, as if he had all the time in the world. “She and Colin spent months looking for it. They talked to my cousin Evelyn, much like you and your friend here did.” He motioned between me and James. “Which led them to this house, and after that, everything changed.”
They glared at each other for a long minute. “I’ve never been able to understand why, after coming here, you’d break off your engagement and hurt my Elaina the way you did.”
When Mack didn’t answer right away, Nino lifted his gun a little higher toward my head. “We were young. I didn’t love her the way I should.”
“No,” Roselli disagreed. “You loved her, but something happened here, and because of that, Elaina is dead.”
“Elaina’s death was tragic, but she died of a heart defect. Nothing else.”
What I thought might be tears glistened in his eyes before he blinked them back. “She was healthy. It wasn’t until you broke her that she got sick. This is your fault.”
Mack shook his head, but Roselli silenced him when he waved the gun at my face.
“When Elaina first told me about your drift, I thought it was from all the medication. It wasn’t until I saw you, outside that new apartment of yours, changing her tire, that I realized this was something much more.” He gestured at me. “She looked so much like the girl from the newspaper clipping that I knew it couldn’t be coincidence.” He raised his eyebrows. “She’s a part of your drift. And knowing what you could do, I guessed she could do the same.”
“But why do this?” Mack motioned to the room.
A huff of air blew through Roselli’s nose. “I thought that’d be obvious.” Roselli pointed an accusatory finger in my direction. “Because you love her, and there is nothing I’ve wanted more than to take something you love and destroy it. The necklace is for my Elaina. Her death—” Roselli pointed at me. “That’s for me.”
Roselli turned away from Mack and faced me. “So please, let’s get on with it, shall we? You’re going to drift to find my necklace.”
“It’s not voluntary,” I said, my voice rough like gravel.
He sucked in a deep breath and exhaled with a thoughtful expression. “Grab him,” he said as he nodded his head in James direction.
“What’re you doing?” I asked him, but the only answer I received was Roselli raising his gun to my chest. The gunman moved swiftly into the kitchen, and my stomach hollowed when he disappeared behind the wall. Seconds later, James groaned. The man rounded the corner, his body bent as he dragged James by the ankles. I voiced something, maybe a lot of somethings, until he dropped his legs.
“There. Now, please, explain again to me how this is at all voluntary.” He pointed his gun at James.
“You can’t kill him. Please, you can’t,” I said in a rush.
“Oh, see, that’s where you’re entirely wrong. I can and will.”
I swallowed. My thoughts were spinning, my stomach in knots.
“Can’t you see she doesn’t know where it is?” Mack said.
“Then I’ll help her remember.” Roselli grabbed James by the collar. I could see the pain that shot through him, but he didn’t make a sound. He breathed thickly through his nose and squeezed his eyes shut against the pain.
“Let him go, please—” I begged as I bent at the waist.
“You said you’d do anything,” Roselli reminded me. “I’m counting on you. But be aware that my patience is running thin.”
He dropped James and stood tall. Mack grabbed me by the upper arm and spun me around. “You can’t do this. You’ll die.”
I pulled away and shook my head. “Look around you, Mack. What choice do I have? I have to try.”
I didn’t wait for his response but walked to James’s side. His olive skin was pale and damp with sweat. I reached forward and combed his hair away from his face.
“McCormack’s right. Don’t do this,” James said, his voice a whisper.
“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.” I took his hand in mine and laced our fingers together. A familiar energy hummed between us, and I reveled in its warmth as I felt the pull of my drift.
James’s face blurred, and for an instant, I was back inside that living room where the smell of cigar smoke was thick, and a moment later, I was back like I’d never been there at all.
“How long is this going to take?” Roselli’s asked when I opened my eyes. James fingers were limp around mine, his arm heavy and still.
“James?” I asked bringing my other hand to his face. “James,” I said louder, but his eyes remained closed, and his features were slack. I pressed my hand to his neck and desperately felt for a pulse. “No, no!”
I looked at Mack. “Do something,” I yelled. “Help me.”
Mack dropped to James’s other side and listened at his mouth. “He’s breathing. It’s shallow, but he’s breathing.”
“I can’t drift without him.” I looked up to Roselli, whose face was carefully composed. “I need to get him help. I won’t be able to help you if he dies.”
He pointed the gun at me. “You’re not calling anyone until I get what I want.”
I turned to Mack, desperate. “You have to help me.”
“You know what this could mean.”
“I don’t care, I have to try—you have to help me try.”
“If your heart stops beating, there’s no coming back.”
“Then keep my heart beating. Do this for me.”
His eyes were wary, but when I reached for his hand, he didn’t resist. I took a deep breath and took a final step. We stood chest to chest, and I wound my fingers through his.
Seconds ticked by.
“It’s not working,” I said. My body shook with a sob that bowed my shoulders.
Every other time, it’d been so easy. A touch, a glance, and I was there. But now, in the moment that mattered most, my drift was painfully out of reach, and James—
Mack folded me into his chest and wrapped his arms around my back. “From the moment I first saw you, I knew you’d change my life, I just never knew how much.” He leaned close, our faces inches apart.
“Please,” he whispered in my ear. “Promise you’ll come back.”
“I promise.” I choked on the words, hating how familiar they were.
He wet his lips and his hand ran the length of my neck a second before he leaned forward and kissed me. His lips were soft and somehow sad—full of unspoken promises and unfulfilled hopes. My hands moved up his chest and grasped his neck.
My drift came quickly, then, and the world fell away as I was whisked through time.
“What have you done?” Colin roared from behind me. I fell backward, and he grabbed at my waist to guide me to the ground.
I groaned once then promptly clenched my teeth to prevent another from escaping. Voicing the pain only made it worse. Blood oozed from a small hole in my stomach, and my dress, a beautiful olive green, turned molten black.
Colin grabbed my hands and pressed them against the wound. On contact, I screamed with pain. He slithered out from behind me and laid me down with care. “Stay like this. Don’t move.”
Colin disappeared and there was talking. No, there was yelling, but the pain was so intense, I couldn’t understand what was being said. Sweat, cold and clammy, dampened my skin, and I felt the room tilt, even though I was already lying down.
I took a shallow breath. “Colin,” I said, but I could barely hear my own voice.
I shifted to my side and winced at the lighting that shot from my belly and out throug
h my limbs. Clenching my eyes shut, I tried to force the pain away, but it didn’t help.
“Colin,” I said as I turned my head in search of him.
He was there, only a few feet in front of me. Roselli held his gun aloft, and they were screaming. The words registered, but nothing made sense. Colin ducked and charged forward, knocking Roselli to the ground. His arm whipped back, and the gun fired at the ceiling. A second later, they landed in a pile on the floor.
There was a struggle, but it didn’t last long. Colin was too strong, too fast, and too angry. The gun fired again, and for a moment, neither man moved. I thought the worst, but seconds later, Colin stood, and I saw Roselli’s gun dangling from his fingers.
“I have your necklace,” Colin said, staring down at his body. He reached into his breast pocket and retrieved the jewel, letting it dangle in front of him.
“Give it to me,” Roselli said as he struggled to sit up. Blood poured from his chest, in a spot just above his heart.
Colin’s smile was flat and lacked warmth. “I would never give you the satisfaction.” He lifted the gun and shot Roselli again. He fell backward and landed with a thud, a hole between his eyes.
Tossing the gun on the floor, he dropped to his knees next to me. “What were you thinking?” he asked, his eyes roving over my body.
My lips trembled with a smile.
“Now that I think about it, I don’t know.” I wanted to laugh, to ease the pain that tortured his eyes, but I managed only a wince.
“I’m so sorry,” he said. His face was drawn with sadness. “I’m going to get help. You’ll be fine, just lie still. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
“No,” I said. I swallowed and could taste blood. “Don’t go.”
“I have to,” he said, his eyes shining with tears. He pushed from the ground, but just before he stood, I touched his hand, and he paused.
“I’m not going to make it,” I said, and even though he shook his head vehemently no, I continued, “and I don’t want to die alone.”